Page 110 of Scattered Glitter

I lean over, reaching across her to grab the seat belt. My fingers brush her arm as I click it into place, and she flinches, letting out a shaky breath, her eyes still closed.

“Hey,” I murmur over the quiet of the car. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”

She opens her eyes, then I can see it, the real fear, not only nerves.

“Sorry… it’s not that easy.”

“I can see that,” I reply, starting the engine and driving off. “I’m sorry. I’ll drive slow, okay?”

She nods, but her eyes are distant, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the dashboard, and I can tell she’s not here with me.

I need to pull her back.

“What helped yesterday?” I ask. “It looked like it got better after a while there.”

She takes a deep breath. “Music.”

I nod, reaching for the radio to start my playlist. The strumming of “Coal” by Dylan Gossett filters through the car. Her lips twitch almost imperceptibly, but it’s there, a tiny curve, a ghost of a smile.

Good. Maybe that’ll help her breathe easier.

Though still tense, her shoulders aren’t as drawn upanymore, and that flicker of calm washes over me too. It’s strange how music can cut through the noise of whatever chaos is running through your head and bring you back down.

“You’re into country?”

“Mmm.” I hum in confirmation, then add a confession, “I play the guitar.”

She glances at me, curiosity briefly overcoming her anxiety. “Hypnosis, music… what else can you do?”

I embrace that spark of intrigue again, latching onto it, hoping it’ll help her focus on something other than fear. “Want to get to know me?” I tease, half-expecting her to deflect as she always does.

“What if I do?” she shoots back with sass, but there’s a tremor there as she grips the leather seat on both sides of her.

The way her shoulders tense every time I accelerate and her fingers twitch whenever another car passes us, she’s holding on by a thread.

“I’d like to get to know you better, too,” I admit, more serious this time. “I enjoy cooking, baking, making music, spending time with family, staying home. You know,cozy shit.Being out and about is stressful for us. People never leave us alone.”

“Poor celebrity, millionaire baby.” Her shoulders relax even more as she mocks me, mocksus, and I catch the small smile forming on her lips. It’s progress.

“Levi already told you about our finances. Your guess isway off,” I tease back. That makes her giggle for real, but it cuts off abruptly as a sudden wail of a siren pierces the air.

She flinches hard as her hand moves to her wrist, and she fumbles with the bracelet there, her fingers skimming over the cool metal before she starts to rub it in slow, repetitive motions, each movement a whispered plea for control. It’s almost as if she’s trying to hypnotize herself.

Fuck this.

“Little Thief?” I say, my eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“Yes?” Her voice is barely there.

I reach over and pinch her knee, enough to make her yelp and glance down, and then I tap her forehead lightly.“Sleep.”

Her head droops forward, her body slacking as the tension drains away.

“You feel good, safe. Everything’s all right. Sorry,” I mutter, guilt curling in my gut.

She asked for this, right?

We glide down the Strip, the neon lights streaking across the windshield.

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